Medhai, a Warrior's Tale
by Turner666
Summary: Set shortly after the defeat of Deathwing, this story chronicles the short but bloody life of a human warrior named Medhai, son of a legendary Knight and a Dwarven mother, who is raised by orcs after his father is slain in battle.


MEDHAI, A WARRIOR'S TALE

Chapter 1: The Green Storm

A battle rages. The once calm, windswept hills of Westfall now find their gently swaying fields of crop scathed, scorched and sundered by the Horde, as the desperate attempts of farmers to defend their homes end abruptly at the edges of blackened Orc-Forged axes.  
A battallion under the command of Ghern Hellspear, descendent of a tainted bloodline, hacks and burns toward Westfall's glorious centerpiece, Sentinel Hill.

A small Fortress by comparison, Sentinel Hill has been under attack by the Horde for weeks, but never in a full scale assault such as this. It's thick and tall walls circle a center structure, a Great Mage Tower, two hundred feet high. Below, a courtyard is dotted with various haytopped shacks, economical structures and a lumbermill, which is currently housing a dozen frightened townfolk.

The walls of this solitary keep hold strong though as hundreds of green-skinned, chainmail-clad berserkers charge up the hill, ploughed down by rains of arrows.  
The Archer's and Pikemen's glare of tenacious focus quickly turns into frowns of imminent doom, as the Sun's fading light reveals the true colossal size of the Orc army.  
Grunted on by the Warlord Ghern, thousands of Orcs charge with only increasing fury, from a series of beached Horde ships. The ships are only the early arrivals and many more loom on the sunset horizon.

Inside the main keep of Sentinel Hill on the top floor of the tower, a hastened meeting of minds is underway around a long dining table cleaned of furnishings, between the Fort's commanding Officer, Knight-Commander Tahn Methias and his Mage Advisors, one of which is his long term friend, the famed Gnome Zarood, a master of Elemental magic.  
Tahn stands seven feet tall, with armour so heavy it's a wonder he is able to stand. He rests on the hilt of his aged yet tremendously daunting - and large - blade, which is carved with a riddle of tallies of slain Orcs, its grooves still stained with the blood of the green unfortunates.  
He is clearly a very powerful man, yet the look on his face as he parlays with his Advisors is not one of a proud, triumphant warrior, yet one of a man who may have, through folly, brought death to his own doorstep.

"WE MUST SEND WORD TO STORMWIND!" Shouts a mage, dressed in a red and pointed attire, clearly allowing the severity of the situation to command his emotions.

"And what?" Cooly replies the dull blue robed mage next to him. "Have the garrisons of our home city sent to their deaths? Think, you fool!"

"He's right. We stand alone, here." Says Tahn, with an unusual air of confidence.

The red mage seems angered but attentive as he turns his worried eyes to an Archer's slit in the wall to glance at the growing wave of green-skins steadily approaching from the sea.

"What about a Portal? There must still be time." Queries Tahn to his Advisors, amazingly still in enough control to think fluidly and calmly although the thunderous roar of Hellspear's forces crunch closer with every moment.

Zarood, garbed in exquisite sunkissed seafoam colours, greens and blues, flowing with such majesty and splendor as though they were held onto him by Mana itself and not by the straps and belts, paces back and forth behind Tahn, clutching his staff, a seemingly worthless woodland stick, humming with an ominous green glow.

He pauses and glances up at Tahn.  
"I could simply create a portal to Stormwind, but there is no telling whether one formed to accomodate an entire community could be closed off quickly enough to... well..."

"Stop THEM from getting through?" Interrupts the red mage.

"Well... yes. We would be looking at a heroic rescue of Sentinel Hill, followed shortly by a daft act of treachery... opening a backdoor to the Great City and letting the Horde run rampant."

The blue mage speaks up from growing impatience, a glib tongue in cheek.  
"Anyone have a plan that doesn't mark the end of the Alliance, feel free to speak up."

He is spiked back by the red mage, who rises to his feet to speak.  
"Well I don't see YOU coming up with anything! You frost mages are all the same!"

The mage in blue snickers.  
"Go sit on an ice lance and cool yourself down."

"ENOUGH!" Tahn gruffs, abruptly silencing the tiff.

An air of silence fills the room for a few seconds before Tahn finally states the ultimatum.  
"Zarood, portal yourself and the Advisors to the Gates of Stormwind, save as many people as you can but I want that portal closed as soon as you're through!"

"Done and done, what will you do?" Questions Zarood, looking relieved from receiving this order, yet slightly worried for his trusted friend Tahn who is known to him to be reckless and fearless when it comes to situations such as this.  
The clankering of Horde steel becoming ever louder but the rallying cries of the guards atop the walls suggest the Orcs have not yet found the strength to threaten the Keep, bolstering Tahn's courage for a moment.  
"I don't run. And I haven't lost a battle yet. It may seem bleak, but I'll be damned if I'm losing this keep to any foul Orc without first showing them the Might of the Alliance!"

Zarood nods in understanding of his friends righteous nature and makes way to the lumbermill with the two mages, where most of the townfolk are gathered in a huddled state of fear.  
Tahn takes a final look out of the Archer's slit at the bustling monster he has chosen to face with but a handful of soldiers instead of fleeing to Stormwind, sheathes his blade on his back and hustles down the tower stairs.  
The air is thick with the stench of Orc blood as a small band of unshaken Archers on the wall shout abuse at the Orc army, before one of them takes an arrow to the head, and a trembling voice yells, "TROOOOLLS!"

The arrows barely miss Tahn as he alone ducks and trundles across the courtyard, passing the lumber mill well and into a small cabin against the wall.  
A woman's screaming, several varied cries of pain and the comforting mumblings of Dwarven Priests are heard as Tahn kneels beside the only bed not inhabited by a wounded soldier.  
The Dwarven Woman's screams are from labour, as she grasps at Tahn. He pulls off his gauntlet and she takes his bare hand. Tears stream down her face, but not a word is said. Tahn's widened eyes, anticipating the unmitigatable downfall of his Keep, reflect into the knowing eyes of his Wife, the Dwarven Woman.  
She knows what he is about to do. The time she had feared for so long has finally come. The Righteous Death of her beloved. And why would it end any other way? There are thousands of Orcs and only a dozen or so Men remaining to guard the Keep. Sentinel Hill was never meant to withstand an attack like this.  
It's defenses evolved from increasing threats and attacks by Gnolls from the south, who attacked in groups of 50 at best.

A heavenly flash of Arcane magic catches both of their eyes as their heads turn toward the open door of the shack. The mages are gone. A faint purple wording etches itself magically into the darkness of Tahn's subconscious. "Portal Closed".  
Tahn's head drops slightly with brief relief and for a moment, the clattering of Orcish weapon against Human Stonemasonry lowers in volume. Drowned in Hope, perhaps.

He looks to the Dwarven Midwife, passes her a small, simple grey stone with a high pitched blue glow and whispers to her.  
The Midwife nods solemnly and tightly grasps the stone.

This item is a Hearthstone. One would think they could simply use this item to portal themselves to safety now, but the Midwife dares not force a pregnant Mother in labour with twins through the rift. Only until after the children are born may she use it.  
The battle clankers on harder, as the clambering and scraping of climbing Trolls is heard against the walls. "COMMANDER, THEY'RE CLIMBING OUR WALLS!" yells a broken Pikeman on the wall as one of the blue-skinned and boastful-grinned Trolls emerges behind him and sockets a rather devilish looking dagger into his back.  
Tahn climbs the steps now, leading up to the ramparts and stands to fight at the wall alongside his shaken brethren.

The Sun's bright light turns to a warm yet dank orange behind the coastal horizon as more and more ships land, pouring countless Orc and Troll forth to the battle, though Tahn's presence rallies his Men to fight with even greater fervour, as they grant Tahn a wide berth to avoid getting massacred themselves. Explosives are launched over the walls setting ablaze the lumbermill and numerous abandoned homes.  
Every Troll felled by Tahn's whirling yet precision attacks musters a courage in his nearby men, even as they are cutdown in their numbers by the Orcs who are now hauling ladders to the walls and making their way to the thick of conflict.

Fear finally finds a place in Tahn's heart as the Great Warrior is overwhelmed and thrown from the walls to the inside of his keep, unable to notice in the heat of combat that every single one of his Men now lie slain.  
At last, to enjoy the final dregs of glory, the Orc Warlord Ghern Hellspear fronts his army, and jumps to the ground in front of where Tahn has landed. No words are traded, only an unimpressed gruff from the Warlord. He shouts, "GOL'KOSH! FOR THE HORDE!" before raising his mighty Axe over his head to finish Tahn off.  
Even with his foot on the throat of Sentinel Hill, the Warlord should not have telegraphed such an obvious blow, or underestimated the final Human Warrior's abilities, as he now screams in rage and agony, crawling away with one leg missing from a low sweeping strike delivered with lightning rapidity by Tahn as he spins to his feet, crouched in a battle-ready stance.

Confused ramblings erupt into roars from the Horde atop the walls watching eagerly for the killing blow, as their Warlord now screams muffled profanities in an Orcish tongue from the flat of his back, aided to his feet by some of his Stone Guard Elite and taken behind a hut to administer some light healing.  
Two dozen Orc and Trollkind drop from the wall and immediately attack Tahn, who cuts them down in their swathes. Dust unsettles around the fighting as Tahn's flurry of furious attacks conjure the attention of the Earth Element itself, resulting in blasts of windcarried dust to eject forth from each of Tahn's swings.

He takes his blade above his head and with a mighty roar, Tahn slams it to the ground with such power that a shockwave of force ripples a crack in the earth toward the wall. Upon reaching the base of the wall, there is a slight rumbling followed quickly by the caving of brick and mortar as it crumbles and falls. Orc and Troll alike are crushed beneath the rubble.  
Tahn's show of valiance and battle prowess are the precursor to his defeat however, as he drops to his knee and rests on his blade's hilt in brief exhaustion. As the dust settles from the collapse of the wall, he takes his medallion, an insignia of the Alliance, and places it to his forehead. There he holds it, and as it sears with a white light, Ghern's Stone Guard surround him. He glares at them with a look of dastardly arrogance with the white light glinting in his eyes and swirls with his blade, one last time, slicing all surrounding Orcs in half, and cleaving down on the last, slicing him lengthways, before being stabbed and hacked at numerous times as the white light blisters to darkness and embattled, bloodthirsty shouts of victory emerge from the Horde warmachine.

The Horde are pillaging and looting the remaining empty buildings, burning as they go, when a flash of green and blue lights attracts their attention from an inconspicuous looking shack in the corner of the courtyard.  
Upon entering they only find a silent newborn, wriggling in place on his back and cooing in contemplation of the dark beasts that he is faced with, and the events that have just transpired.  
A Troll takes up his bow and draws an arrow to the string.

"Put... that down..." growls the injured Warlord as he hops into the shack, aided by his Elites.

"Den what mon? I be hungry mon." the Troll mutters dryly.

"If this boy shares blood with that bastard Human who just took my leg, you can starve! Thrall needs a new pet!" emplors Ghern with a hint of delayed anger, as he recoils momentarily in pain and waddles out of the door.

"You'll wait for the bloody Tauren!"

A few moments later, a tall bovine, surrounded by an air of mystical haze, flickering with glittered spots of light, approaches the Warlord and his guard, his hooves creating almost no sound at all as he walks, as though the Tauren is harmonized with the Earth.  
Ghern would normally kneel to one of the Tauren Shamanic Circle, but due to the circumstances, lowers his head in respect.

"Aka'Magosh" utters the Tauren, a blessing in the Orcish tongue.

The Tauren kneels over the dead body of Tahn for a moment and hums a harmonic tone, before standing and entering the building to do the same to the baby. He then turns and nods at the Warlord, whose eyes widen with the concept of a future prospect.

"Take him back to Orgrimmar. Take him to the Chief. He'll be raised as one of us. Trained as one of us. We got ourselves a pet Human lads!" Ghern heartily states to his soldiers, inciting a frightening battle cry to ripple forth.

"LOK'TAR OGAR! LOK'TAR OGAR!"

The war cries gradually slow and numb to a deadened and shocking silence as a number of Orcs look on in awe at the child... who has begun laughing.

"Is 'e... laughin' at us?" says an Orc, who, offended, takes a deep breath and lets forth a brutal scream at the baby Human, only provoking the him to laugh even harder and louder.

CHAPTER 2: Sons of Tahn


End file.
